


Mend

by MufinXoxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-War, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MufinXoxo/pseuds/MufinXoxo
Summary: After the war, things aren’t going quite as Hermione expected. The introduction of a new Ministry legislation that allows ex-convicts back into society, coincides a little too well with a mysterious series of dark events in the world of magical beasts.To make things even more complicated: enter Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been floating around in my head for a while, it only took a global pandemic for me to start writing it *cries*

The shrill sound of her alarm woke Hermione and she groaned, groggily fumbling for her wand on her bedside table. She aimed a well-practiced blast at the wretched thing jumping around on her desk on the other side of the room. Twisting her hair and jabbing her wand into the bun, she sighed, before throwing back the covers and distractedly patting Crookshanks on the head, who was just as disgruntled as she was by the sound. Blurrily she rubbed her eyes and dragged herself out of bed as she flicked on the lights. She tripped towards the bathroom, tiles cold on her feet once she crossed the threshold. She splashed water on her face, blinking at the prominent black bags under her eyes as she patted her face dry with a towel. A simple _reparo_ charm fixed the shattered clockwork on her desk, and she reluctantly made her way to the kitchen to begin her day.

Sighing, she remembered her disastrous date the night before, wondering dully whilst she went through the motions of making tea if she should _oblivate_ herself so she never had to think of it again. _A Ravenclaw_ , she remembered thinking, _Our first date was only brief, but maybe this time we will have an intellectual conversation about the news or recent discoveries in properties of the number seven, a unprecedented breakthrough since Bridget Wenlock first described its importance for arithmancy._

She snorted into her tea, whilst Crookshanks wound around her feet. Apparently, arithmancy had been one of her date’s interests, although when she tried in vain to address the topic in a desperate attempt to salvage what was left of the conversation, the man all of a sudden had not known what to say at all.

“There, there.” She said, pouring Crookshanks’ food into the red bowl on the floor, scratching him behind the ears, “Neither you nor me thought it would end so badly, hm?”

And ended badly it had. After showing up ten minutes late, her date had proceeded to launch into a tirade about how one of the recently passed ministry bills that allowed certain witches and wizards, including some death eaters, the possibility of parole was the worst idea in the history of the wizarding world and how, as a ministry employee, couldn’t she fix that?

She glanced out of the window framed by sunny-yellow curtains in an attempt to hold off her building irritation, but her eyes only met the flickering of a streetlamp in the darkness below. Unsuccessful, she returned to her bedroom whilst clutching her mug.

She worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Unless the death eater her date was referring to was an angry goblin or a fully transformed Fenrir Greyback, there was little she could do to make sure they stayed incarcerated. More than anything, she had already had a lengthy discussion of the matter at the weekly Weasley dinner, and was loath to reiterate all her points. Ron and Ginny had fumed, Harry and Percy had agreed with her, Mrs. Weasley had tried to keep the peace, and George had been heart breakingly silent.

The new bill would allow witches and wizards that only joined the ranks during Voldemort’s second rise to power to have the possibility to be pardoned on parole, given certain considerations. The list was long, but included things such as their reasons for joining, evidence of coercion, and if they had ever actually killed anyone. Some individuals had been forced to join the Dark Lord as a last resort, the ministry had argued.

Hermione sighed, pulling on her clothes for the day, whilst trying to drink her still scalding tea. She brushed her hair into something that resembled a ponytail, chugged the rest of her tea, and quickly, but meticulously, brushed her teeth. Her parents were dentists, and some childhood lectures were always remembered.

The truth was, the wizarding world was horribly short on people at a working age, Azkaban was bursting at the seams, even minor dark arts uses could land someone in there for a week, the crime rate was stagnant at best, and there simply weren’t enough resources anywhere. Five years later, their world was still reeling from the aftermath of the damage caused by the second wizarding war.

_“Clearly, they haven’t learned from the first time! What, all the death eaters who ‘pretended’ they had been under the imperious curse, but as soon as he-who-must-not-be-named came back, immediately crawled back to him?” The Ravenclaw had said._

_“Voldemort is definitely dead this time.” Hermione had countered,_ “ _Shouldn’t people who were forced to make decisions to protect their family be allowed to have a second chance? Many people went along with what he did because they were scared. That includes many ministry employees, and just because they never openly opposed his rule, are now set to be in Azkaban for the next ten years. I don’t think anyone truly believes they deserve that.”_

_“So? They still made their decision. They could have just refused to go along with his demands. Or fought back! Things would never have gotten so bad if people hadn’t just focused on themselves and tried to ignore everything before it ended up in bloodshed.”_

_“Oh? And where_ exactly _were_ you _during the wizarding war?”_

_He had sniffed, “I was in hiding of course. I didn’t compromise my values and side with he-who-must-not-be-named.”_

_“Not everyone had that ability to make that choice!” Hermione had been livid._

_“Everyone makes their decisions, it’s not our fault they made the wrong one.” Her date had looked at her imperiously, “For the apparently brightest witch of your age, your ideas are pretty stupid.”_

After that, blood boiling, Hermione had left. Her hand curled into a fist now just thinking about it, and she took a deep breath to unclench her death grip on the mug. She unceremoniously dumped the purple ceramic into the sink and waved her wand so it started washing itself. Disagreements, discussions, even arguments, she could stand. An insult to her intelligence, the only thing she could always pride herself in, she could not.

After her relationship with Ron ended, Hermione had decided that in a partner she would also look for a more intellectual connection, so they could have something to talk about. Now, at the age of 24, she wondered if she should just go for physical attraction and wait with the intellectual stuff until she was 30.

Groaning, she pulled on her shoes and flooed in to work.

Opening the door to her small shared office, Hermione sighed. A large window dominated the wall opposite to the door. The indoor fern hanging in front of it was dying a slow death by dehydration and miserably serenading the sun as it crept over the horizon. It was barely seven o’clock.

The cause of her sigh had been the desk on the right side of the room, which was cleaned spotless. Not a single piece of paper remained; all of those had been moved to her desk on the left were they were precariously balanced on the edge, and she had spent the whole of the last week trying to work through the stack of parchment. The filing cabinet next to her desk was stuffed full, the top drawer no longer closing as she squeezed her way past it to get to her chair. The ancient piece of furniture creaked as she sat down and fought the urge to burst into tears when looking at the mountain of paperwork that faced her.

Her seventh partner this year had resigned at the start of the previous week, giving no reason as to why. Hermione knew exactly why; the work they did here was thankless, and most of it was chasing down some obscure magical creature that had broken some kind of law it didn’t even know existed. The rest of the work was chasing down witches and wizards, sometimes muggles, illegally handling or trading magical beasts, and that was even more exhausting than trying to find a bowtruckle on a tree.

The continuous reassignment of partners did little to help with the overwhelming workload. “If someone stayed around for more than a few weeks, that would be really great.” She muttered to herself, popping the lid off her ink pot.

Her previous partner had been shockingly disorganised, and trudging through the files left behind highlighted a number of overdue cases she had never thought to mention to Hermione. She ploughed through them. Reports of neighbours illegally keeping a hippogriff in a shed, and a mysterious case of muggles being severely depressed after consuming honey. There was also a centaur shooting arrows at a wizard that decided to step on his land, a case which was, quite frankly, considerably above her paygrade.

Her quill scratched across the parchment, and she rolled her shoulders as she finally finished sorting the last of the reports in order of priority. Waving her wand, she sent it flying towards the pile on the floor, and pulled out a heavy book, a revised edition of one of Newt Scamander’s most comprehensive books. She needed make some headway on one of the most overdue cases, this one specifically about what she was sure was a probable glumbumble infestation in the local beekeeping facility in the Thames Valley.

She did not hear the knock that sounded on the office door, and she did not hear the whining of the door as the hinges complained when it was opened. She _did_ hear the rather loud cough from her supervisor, and her head snapped up.

“Miss Granger? Can I introduce you to your new partner-in-training?”

Their eyes met, and he looked oddly elated and like he was going to throw up at the same time, before the expression quickly vanished and was replaced with a disdainful sneer.

Hermione could only stare, shocked.

It was Draco fucking Malfoy. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaay second chapter

“Granger,” Draco sneered, “How predictable to find you here.”

Hermione stopped staring and gathered herself, “Malfoy. Didn’t know that they let you out.” She replied primly.

Of all the people to be released as a result of the new legislation, he was one she had not expected. Not only had his actions been instrumental in allowing death eaters to swarm Hogwarts and ultimately kill Dumbledore in her sixth year of school, but Malfoy Manor had been a base of operations during the war. Furthermore, even though the Malfoy’s had not committed some of the more horrendous acts, their support for Voldemort during most of the war, as well as their self-serving interests and disdain for anyone with ‘impure’ blood, did them no favours.

Her supervisor, Mr. Collyboddle, blinked, “Oh, of course. Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger were in the same year at Hogwarts, were you not? Well in that case, that does make introductions much easier.”

Mr Collyboddle was a rather portly little man, with ruddy cheeks and a few wisps of white hair on top of his head. On the Christmas quiz the year prior it had been revealed that his favourite magical beast was a Puffskein, and with his rather pacifist nature and cuddly personality, Hermione had not been surprised in the slightest. Promoted to head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures shortly after the fall of Voldemort, he had spent 40 years prior working in the field, and presumably had gotten the job for his impressive show of tenacity in a department that people usually quit from after 5 years of trudging through muck to find some legless beast. Despite all this, there was a bead of sweat on his forehead, and he did not look entirely comfortable standing next to the ex-death eater.

In contrast, Malfoy all but towered over the smaller man. He looked paler than Hermione could ever remember him being, his skin almost luminescently glowing. His white-gold hair was long now, but unlike his father, he wore it pulled back into a ponytail. His cleanly shaven face only served to accentuate the sharp angles of his face, and even though he had lost all his baby fat during their sixth year, the lines on is face seemed even harsher now. He wore a complete set of black wizarding robes, which did little to hide his gaunt frame. His eyes were as grey and cold as ever.

Conjuring up two comfy velvet chairs, Mr Collyboddle sat down heavily. “Sit, sit.” He nervously encouraged Malfoy. Malfoy elegantly took a seat.

Mr Collyboddle turned to Hermione and gave her an overly enthusiastic smile, “Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy has been hired to work as your partner for the first year of his parole. Now, treat this just as normal training, but with some extra points to remember! As his partner, the Ministry just asks that you keep a track of his work attendance, and also if you notice anything suspicious. It’s very important for the first year especially to keep a steady track record, but when enjoying all the world has to offer, cases of Bicorns and chupacabras and transforming rabbits, I’m sure his enthusiasm for the job will just shine through!” He let out a nervous laugh, before pulling out a little pamphlet, “Here, Miss Granger, some guidelines and rules recently published by the Ministry, just some things to take into account when working with someone on this new parole.” He handed it over to her.

She looked at the cheery red font and moving picture of a wizard and witch on the front, smiling manically whilst brewing potions. She felt slightly ill.

“I don’t think I want to do this after all.” In his defence, Draco looked just as nauseated as she felt at the prospect of having to work together for a whole year. Or maybe that was just his default expression of disgust for anything he considered beneath him. “I’m sure Granger can use her _invaluable_ time for other things, and has numerous reasons for not wanting to work with me.” He sneered down his nose, and made a move to leave.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Mr Collyboddle began, throwing his hands up to reach for Malfoy before thinking better of it when he received an icy glare. Wringing his hands, he said “Need I remind you that you don’t really have a choice in the matter?”

Draco looked the man dead in the eye, still half out of his chair, hands curled into claws on the armrests. “I’ll go back to Azkaban instead.”

Mr Collyboddle spluttered, “Mr Malfoy! Don’t say something like that. I know many people do not like working in this department, but it’s really not so bad! Even if you have had differences in the past, this is a great opportunity to overcome those.”

Hermione bristled. Differences in the past? It had been slightly more than that. They had been on opposite sides in a war, and he still woke up in cold sweat at least once every few months, memories of writhing on the floor of Malfoy Manor haunting her.

“It’s quite alright,” Hermione ground out. She wasn’t going to be a child, like Draco. “I’m sure we can work together in a civil way.” Had she not insisted yesterday that she would be able to look past someone’s past once they had served their time? Everyone deserved to be forgiven at some point, she had said. _But I wasn’t talking about Death Eaters_ , a tiny voice in her mind whispered. She remembered how Harry had gone to defend Malfoy in court five years ago, and still could not fathom why.

Part of Hermione mourned the fact that he looked so good. How was it possible to get more attractive whilst having your life force sucked out of you? Draco had never been ugly, but in the last few years he seemed to have taken on an almost more ethereal quality. Of course, the illusion was ruined as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Really? Well, then let me make my position clear.” Malfoy leaned forward in his seat, “With the large number of wizards and witches released over the last week, this is one of the only jobs still available. I’m not allowed to work in a job that is essential for the infrastructure, such as magical transportation, and obviously not a department like Magical Law Enforcement. No business wants to hire an ex-death eater, and being self-employed does not match the criteria of the parole. Trust me, Granger,” his eyes swept up and down her body in disdain, “This is the _last_ place I want to be.”

“Rest assured, your sentiment has been noted, and is returned in kind. I’m very certain no one else wants to work with you either.” She spat out in turn.

“Oh, but you’ll take that task upon yourself, so no one else has to suffer through it? How _noble_ of you.”

Hermione glared at Malfoy. Before their fight could carry on any longer, they were interrupted.

“Well.” Mr Collyboddle took a deep breath, patting at his forehead with a handkerchief, “Now that introductions are out of the way, I guess I will leave you to settle in, Mr Malfoy. If you have any questions at any time, I am sure Miss Granger is well equipped to answer them in the first instance.” He quickly retreated, fumbling around as he closed the door behind him, leaving his chairs behind in his haste.

 _Coward_ , Hermione thought resentfully.

But Mr Collyboddle had also been onto something. Just seeing Malfoy again was enough of a shock for one day.

Collecting the heavy tome she had been consulting, she stood up and brushed past Malfoy, dumping it on the desk opposite hers. She flicked her wand and a random case file from her recently organised pile dropped on top of it.

“Well, I suggest you familiarise yourself with this for now, we will handle this case tomorrow.”

“Oh?” His eyes had followed her through the room.

“Yes. I have a glumbumble infestation to take care of.” Without another word, she also executed a hasty retreat, all but running towards the fireplaces.

Hermione liked coming in early in the morning. Dawn cast the office in a special kind of light, and the peace of working, without anyone bursting in to hound her about some case gone horribly wrong, was the most relaxing time of her day. It was also the only time of day, apart from the late hours of the evening at home, where she got to work on her proposal to improve the well-being of house elves and other magical beings.

Whilst her avoidance strategies the day before had not been admirable, Hermione had needed time to sort her feelings out. Seeing Malfoy again had brought along with it all kinds of conflicting emotions. He had never been the cause of anything positive in her mind, infuriating her to no end, and she was fighting hard to reconcile that with the impassioned argument she had provided in support of the recently passed motion. She decided to give him a very chance, but would watch closely to see if his old behaviours surfaced. Pleased with her conclusion, she began working.

Hermione maintained her tranquil working environment until 10 am sharp, when Draco Malfoy decided to once again grace her with his presence.

Like always, she was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice when someone entered the office. What brought her attention to him was the rather loud, obnoxious way he was crinkling his sweet wrappers and watching chocolate frogs jump around his desk, leaving smears of cocoa on a file she would probably have to rewrite entirely before she could submit it.

“What,” She began, rubbing at her temples and hoping that the action would stave off the headache that was sure to come, seriously questioning her previous mindset, “Are you doing?”

Malfoy popped a chocolate frog into his mouth, “Enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Something a know-it-all like you wouldn’t understand.”

Hermione frowned, took a deep breath, and resumed writing, “Well, this is work time, so I would appreciate if you could refrain from doing that until after hours.”

Demonstratively, Malfoy tore open another chocolate frog package. “Would you look at that?” He mused, “I got our lord and saviour, Potter,” he told her, holding up the card with a miniature Harry in it waving at her. She shot him a glare.

Letting it drop back onto the desk, he aimed his wand at it, incinerating the collectable and leaving a pile of ashes, along with a large black burn mark, behind on the table. He blinked and looked at his wand, before shrugging.

Hermione wanted to bang her head against the table, and it had only been ten minutes.

“So, what are we doing today? I would love to sit here and enjoy the view, but there isn’t much to see.” He shot her a pointed look.

“Once I finish this file,” Hermione said testily, “We are going to go and handle the case I gave you to look at yesterday.” She couldn’t remember which one that had been, but she hoped it was something involving flesh-eating slugs. That would then proceed to eat him.

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, “Don’t I get some kind of introduction before I start doing fieldwork?”

Hermione sniffed snobbily, “Here in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, we believe in learning through doing.”

She remembered how three years ago, after a year of Auror training, she had decided that her knowledge, skills and passion would be put to better use in advocating for those who could not advocate for themselves. Her supervisor at the time spat out his tea when she showed him the transfer request, and soon after she had understood why. Her idealistic expectations of fighting for magical being rights and been quickly shattered when she was placed into the severely understaffed beast division and spent her first day on the job dealing with a pair of bickering neighbours in Scotland, where one of them thought that the best way to express their ire for their neighbour was to cause a Horklump infestation in their yard, and the other neighbour then deciding it would be even better to get the Ministry of Magic involved by claiming protection under the ‘harassment by magical beasts’ act. Hermione Granger was many things, but a quitter was not one of them, so she had persevered until now.

Even though she felt slightly ashamed of herself for now dealing out the same unofficial inauguration into the Beast Division that she had received, another part of her rather thought he deserved it.

“No wonder no one wants to work here.” Malfoy muttered under his breath, flicking through the file.

Finishing her file, Hermione got up and grabbed it form him. Her eyebrows, too, now shot to her hairline.

“Well, I guess it’s best to start with a bang.” She quickly scanned the file, before tucking it away into her bag and grabbing her wand. “You’re not allowed to apparate, so I guess we will be taking the floo network to the pub next door.”

The pub they arrived at was a dingy affair, and had clearly seen better days. Those better days had presumably been in the 60s.

“This place is a pigsty.” Malfoy complained, wrinkling his nose. “It smells like a hundred doxies just crawled under the floorboards and died.” He pulled out a handkerchief and held it over his nose.

Hermione rather felt he was exaggerating the smell, but privately agreed with his first observation.

A barkeep ambled in through the swinging doors behind the bar, and slowly blinked in surprise when he saw them. _The Sailing Crow_ probably didn’t get a lot of visitors at 11am in the morning.

Before Malfoy could say anything even more offensive, Hermione took a large step forwards and introduced themselves, “Good morning. We are here on behalf of the Beast Division from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?”

“Oh yeah? I submitted that report a month ago!” The barkeep grumbled, and when he opened his mouth again Hermione saw three gleaming golden teeth, “Name’s Tanner, Cordelius Tanner. Have been runnin’ this place for thirty years, and never have I seen somethin’ so blatantly disrespectful of the law yous lovely people at that ministry put out.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Hermione also doubted that all the dealings that went on at these grimy oak tables were completely legal, but she held her tongue.

“It started about, what was it now, half a year ago? Chap next door comes back home in the middle of the night with one of them Hippogriffs. Well, I think to myself, must’ve been pretty lucky at the roulette table, if yous catch my drift. Not got a single penny hidden away in that shack of his. But anyways, ownin’ a Hippogriff ain’t a crime, so I don’t think much more about that. A month goes on by, and I’m thinking to myself, has there always been that much of noise comin’ from the yard? So I take a peek over the wall, as bein’ curious ain’t a crime either. Anyway, what do I see there? A baby Hippogriff!

“Now, about Hippogriff breedin’ laws I do know somethin’. You see, my aunt Heather was done in for doin’ it, had to pay such a large fine she had to sell her house! Apparently, if there’s to be a business made out of it, there’s more strict regulations or somethin’ and that includes plenty o’ taxes. Anyway, like I said, not a single sickle hidden away in that house, so I know for a fact that there’s no way that business o’ his is allowed. But I think to myself, eh, I’m not getting’ paid to rat on poor people tryin’ to make a livin’ for themselves, so once he’s got the cash he’s sure to get it approved or whatnot.”

“Your report mentions two baby hippogriffs?”

“I’m getting’ to that part. Another three months, and there’s another baby hippogriff stumblin’ around his yard, and what I think is a male hippogriff there as well. But this baby is clearly related to that one, ‘cause it’s got the same black colouring, you see. Think he’s only around for a short while, because I never see that beast again. Still, I don’t say nothin’. Until, about a month ago, when I filed the report, I hear this terrible screechin’ one night. Hadn’t checked on them in a while, so I take my last peek. There, in the corner of the yard, there is this huge cage, and mama hippogriff is inside. But her first baby is nowhere to be seen, and the most wretched screechin’ I’ve ever heard in my life. The other baby is still free in the yard, but there’s this huge chain tying it to the ground. Now, mama Hippogriff has always been tied to the ground, since the beginning, but the babies used to run around as much as they wanted to. I think the other baby is gone as well by now, probably sold off, I’d say.”

“So currently, there is just one Hippogriff in the yard?” Hermione asked.

“Well if you’d been here a month ago, there would have been two.” The barkeep said defensively, “Be that what it is, I’m pretty sure they’re usin’ enough tranquiliser on that feathered beast to keep a dragon down at the moment, because at least once a day she wakes up with the most terrible screechin’. Never heard such pain comin’ from one of those.” He shook his head. “It’s been almost unbearable the last three days.”

“Thank you for that _riveting_ summary.” Malfoy drawled through his handkerchief.

As the barkeep narrowed is eyes, Hermione quickly jumped in, “What he means to say is, thank you for telling us some more valuable information about the case. We will now go and speak with your neighbour.”

With one last disdainful look around the place, Malfoy followed her.

“Can you try to not be a twat when working?” Hermione hissed as they made their way out of the pub and up to the house next to it.

Malfoy pretended he hadn’t heard her and knocked imperiously on the faded wooden door. “Open up, the Ministry is here.”

Hermione wanted to bash her head against the wall. Repeatedly. “Great. If he was at all going to open the door, he definitely will not open it now.”

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly, and aimed a blast at the door, blowing it clean off its hinges.

“What is _with_ you blowing everything up today?” Hermione raged, “It’s your first proper day on the job, at least _try_.”

Malfoy looked a bit chastised, “I didn’t know it would give such a big bang.” He peered curiously at the blackened edges of the doorframe.

Hermione shot him a death glare, “You performed the spell! You should know what it does.”

“ _Reparo_.” The door reassembled itself, however some wood pieces remained blackened and the door handle looked decidedly crooked. Hermione tried it, and the door swung open.

“It doesn’t appear that anyone is home.”

“How is this place more of a mess than the pub?” Malfoy muttered. “I’ll check upstairs.”

Hermione nodded and kept her wand up, looking around every corner and casting multiple unveiling spells. Nothing. She made her way to the back of the house.

All the window panes facing the yard were broken and sharp, jagged pieces of glass littered the floor. There were multiple claw marks in the furniture, the filling of the sofa spilling onto the grubby wooden panels. With a sense of building dread, she took a look at the yard. There were more weeds than grass, and the metal cage in the centre was empty, the door hanging uselessly off its hinges. A hippogriff was standing in front of the cage, scratching at the ground. It looked up and stared at her.

Hermione turned around in a mad dash for the safety of the hallway, as with an ungodly shriek the hippogriff lurched after her.

It jumped through the window, the sharp edges causing new cuts on its body next to the already existing, weeping wounds. The chain around the creature’s neck jerked it back once it reached the centre of the living room and it screamed.

Malfoy came pounding down the creaky stairs, something that looked like panic on his face, but quickly vanished once he saw her panting in the hallway.

“Did you find anything upstairs?” She asked.

He shook his head.

She gestured into the living room, “I found the hippogriff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also can't believe people actually read the last chapter (and this one) at all? I'm so happy :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> erm so. sorry it took me so long?

“It seems to be in a rather foul mood.”

Hermione, still breathing heavily, shot him a withering glare.

“We need to calm it down somehow.” She said.

The Hippogriff shrieked, raking its claws along the ground.

“Stun it?” Malfoy suggested.

Hermione straightened, brushing her frazzled wisps of hair behind her ear, “He’s clearly very distraught! We can’t just stun him.”

“I think that’s the female.” Malfoy pointed out snarkily, before turning to observe the creature. The tawny beast was yanking on its chain, hell-bent on getting closer to them. Foam was starting to build around its beak, spittle flying everywhere as it shrieked at them.

“Well then, what’s your idea? I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to hippogriffs, and this one isn’t even in a good mood to begin with.” Malfoy said, eyeing the creature apprehensively.

“Oh, are you referring to the time you got that tiny scratch?”

“It damn near took my arm off!”

“You provoked Buckbeak first!” Hermione countered, spinning to face him.

“I was twelve! It’s a huge winged beast that weighs close to a thousand pounds!”

“Then it makes even less sense that you would pick a fight! You started it!” Hermione jabbed her finger in his direction.

They were both staring at each other, the cause of their argument temporarily forgotten in the living room.

“Well, in hindsight, I haven’t always made the best decisions, have I? Who lets a bunch of teenagers into a pen with violent, proud beasts in the first place anyway? For their first lesson?”

“It was under supervision!” Hermione was furious. How _dare_ Malfoy blame Hagrid?

“Granger, there were almost twenty of us and one ‘teacher’.” Malfoy used air quotes, “There was no way for that oaf to keep an eye on all the children _and_ all the hippogriffs.”

“Well, it wasn’t his fault that _some_ of the children there were going to act like little shits!”

“But everyone _knew_ that if you put a bunch of Gryffindors and Slytherins together, they’re going to start acting like, as you put it, ‘little shits’.” He used air quotes again, and that incinerated Hermione even further.

“Oh, so kind of like you are acting right now? Are you admitting that you were a little shit?”

Malfoy sighed, pinching is nose in annoyance, “Yes, Granger, I may have been, a tiny bit, at fault.” Hermione wanted to gloat, even though she couldn’t believe her ears. Malfoy – _Malfoy –_ acknowledging that he may have done something wrong? He continued, gesturing towards the beast in the living room, “Regardless of that wonderful memory of our third year, my point still stands. You’ll get mauled if you get too close to that hippogriff.”

Hermione frowned, remembering why they were actually here in the first place, she had been so absorbed in the argument. Malfoy was annoyingly right; there was no way for her to approach the beast without losing a limb, and it was in serious need of medical attention. Rivers of blood were streaming down its body from dozens of cuts, and it looked malnourished. Hermione noticed its beak was chipped, probably from chewing at its chain in an attempt to get free.

She felt anger boiling inside. “Well, what do you suggest we do then? Leave it here?”

“No, Granger. Despite what you may think, I’m not inhumane. Just because _I_ don’t want to be the one to take care of it, doesn’t mean that I can’t see that it needs treatment. Isn’t there some kind of creature hospital?”

The Hippogriff shrieked again, stretching its wings. A large portion of the flight feathers had been severed in half.

“You mean the Hippogriff Sanctuary?”

Malfoy blinked, “Didn’t actually know there was one.”

“It only opened two years ago. Obviously, the news of its opening was beneath your interest.” Afterall, why would Malfoy be concerned about the plight of magical creatures?

“Unfortunately the Daily Prophet doesn’t offer a subscription service for those in Azkaban.” Malfoy fixed his steely gaze on her.

Hermione winced. In all her anger, she had forgotten that tiny detail. Fighting with Malfoy was so natural, it was easy to forget the circumstances that had led to them being on the case in the first place. Feeling slightly chastened, because she hated losing track of things, she decided to let the argument slide. For now. Malfoy was decidedly still a prick.

“Well, I guess I’ll send a patronus to Garry at the sanctuary then.” Lifting her wand, she cast the spell and her otter darted away.

“We should still stun it. By that I mean you. As much as I think one less Hippogriff in the world is no loss, I don’t want to risk my parole. This trackable wand they gave me is a mess.”

Hermione recalled the two previous incinerations of the day. “You think the wand is misfiring your spells?”

Malfoy looked away, resting his eyes on the screeching Hippogriff. “What else could it be?”

“Well, I don’t think walking around with a wand like that is any good. What if you cause serious injury to a creature when on a case? Or a civilian? We need to –“

“Granger, Stop. I just need to get used to it. Stun the Hippogriff, before its screeches make us go deaf. Maybe it will rip its own damn head off first.”

Hermione scrunched her nose at being interrupted. “Well, sorry for being conscientious about the well-being of other life forms, not that you would care about accidentally hurting something. Or anyone. It’s not in the Malfoy blood to care, I guess. About anything other than your own self-interest.” She muttered angrily under her breath, mentally running through the best spell to use. “Why would I ever expect anything else?”

Malfoy’s eyes cut to her, but instead of saying anything, he resolutely focused on the Hippogriff again. Not getting a snarky retort from Malfoy defending his pride, or insulting her, was oddly jarring.

Hermione stunned the feathered beast, and finally there was quiet as she and Malfoy both went to opposite sides of the room and stared forward at the beast, refusing to make any kind of eye contact.

Help came quickly, a frazzled wizard rushing into the dilapidated house, glasses on his nose askew.

“Brenda!” He said with a sob, falling to his knees. “Oh, Brenda, darling, what did they do to you?” He started casting a flurry of diagnostic spells over the unconscious beast, pausing only to lovingly stroke her feathers.

“Do you know this Hippogriff?” Hermione asked the obvious.

Malfoy was still leaning against the wall like a silent shadow, twirling his wand with disinterest. Hermione concluded that he would not be taking part in the conversation.

“Yes,” the wizard sobbed, “Brenda went missing a while ago. She was pregnant at the time, so we thought she had just run away to give birth in a safe location, but she never came back. We assumed the worst, and that she was dead. Oh.” He looked at her, surprised and then suddenly reverent, “Aren’t you Hermione Granger?”

“Er, yes. Also, you’re not Garry.” She said pointedly.

“Oh, yes, I’m Barnabus Axley.”

“Are you also missing a black, male Hippogriff at the sanctuary?”

The wizard blinked, “No. Just Brenda. Her young one as well now, it seems, as she is clearly no longer pregnant.” His eyes teared up all of a sudden, “Did she loose the baby? Oh, how dreadful!”

Before he could fling himself dramatically at the Hippogriff again, Hermione quickly interrupted, “We believe the baby is still alive. Were there no signs of theft when she went missing?”

He shook his head, “We don’t ward our sanctuary against theft, just against prying muggle eyes. Hippogriffs aren’t really easy to kidnap, you see, and all of ours are trained to stay on the grounds.”

Hermione sighed heavily. Given the current information, there wasn’t really much else she could do. “Well then, we trust that you will take care of Brenda from here.”

“We?” The Wizard looked around, eyes landing on Malfoy, who sneered at him. He quickly got off his knees and dusted off his robe, eyes darting to Malfoy’s face and away again with unease.

“Yes, we, Mr Malfoy and I.” Axley let out a small yelp at Malfoy’s name, eyes going as large as saucers and staring at him again. “We will keep looking into this case, to find the wizard or witch responsible.” Hermione reassured. Although, this case would probably now be handed over to magical law enforcement, if it was deemed to be a case of theft. From now on, it would be a joint effort, and Hermione was not looking forward to working with them. The last time a case of magical beast theft had occurred, she worked together with Cormac McLaggen, a wholly unpleasant experience for more than one reason.

Axley gulped, “Ah, yes, of course. I’ll take care of Brenda from now. I will let you know if anything happens. I’ll also ask the others at the sanctuary.”

“Yes, please give Garry my greetings.”

“Of course, of course!”

After some more discussion of details and a second sweep of the house and garden, there wasn’t really much left to do. Talking to the barkeep ensured that he would let them know if someone showed up at the house next door, if only to keep attention off his own shady dealings and make him seem like an upright citizen of the law. Flooing back to the Ministry, Hermione left Malfoy to deal with the field report for the case and to sort through some files, before fleeing from the office with a flimsy excuse of having to have a chat with Magical Law Enforcement.

It didn’t escape her notice that it was her second consecutive day of doing so.


End file.
